


Molly Hooper: Molly's Little Helper

by siouxsiesue



Series: Autoerotic [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Masturbation, Riding Crop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siouxsiesue/pseuds/siouxsiesue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly decides she has better things to do than catch up with her boring book and finds that the course of true fantasy life never runs smooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molly Hooper: Molly's Little Helper

Molly Hooper woke up feeling optimistic, lightheaded even. It was a rare day off, her flat was relatively tidy and she had no pressing family commitments to attend to.

Stretching and flexing in her bed, she tried in vain to remember that last dream of hers, it was tantalizingly out of reach, and she knew better than go chase. It would come to her, if it meant anything. Molly had a feeling it was the reason she had woken in such a positive frame of mind. She didn’t feel so empty today.

There had been just the suggestion of someone’s long fingers, a candle in an old fashioned holder, and she may even have been a child in the dream, as she had on a coat that was too big for her and trailed to the ground.

Reaching out to find her latest book group paperback, Molly’s hand caught on her bedside table drawer, which was slightly open, contents askew. Shaking the drawer in order to close it, her eye was caught by a glimpse of something mauve, and curved like half an ‘S’ shape. She closed the drawer and tried to concentrate on the book. It was not to her taste entirely, magic realism was not her chosen genre, but she persevered. Molly didn’t like to let anyone down.

Reading over the same paragraph twice made her put the book down and stretch again, wide awake but not yet ready to get up.

An idea blossomed in her mind, an idea that made her blush even though she was completely alone in her flat, her bed.

She opened that bedside drawer and took out the curved mauve vibrator she had glimpsed before. Taking the thing out and holding its smooth curved shape in her hand reminded Molly of the day she had bought it. 

Her friends Denny and Jude from Med school had got together behind Molly’s back and plotted to be in Old Street for a drink, and invited her along. The three of them each bought a round. On the second, Denny and Jude exchanged a secret (pre-arranged) look girls and before she really knew what was going on or how to protest, Molly and her friends were walking down a side street and knocking on the front door of a very discreet shop called ‘Sh..’.

The significance of the shop initials were not lost on Molly, although Jude and Denny seemed unable to make the link. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that Molly had tried to keep this particular crush to herself all this time. Seeing the initials in bright pink neon light made her stomach contract, butterflies fluttering to make her feel slightly edgy and warm on this cold night.

Her two friends, although positively fond of ‘Molls’ as they had called her from day one, were not very patient when dealing with insecure or shy Molly. They saw the wonderful, capable woman she was, or could be if only she let herself. As with any good friendship, Molly was completely herself with her girls and they couldn’t understand her single status. They had over the years tried to set Molly up with some well chosen men, and even had the discussion between them if they should choose a woman instead, but had chickened out and been unable to broach the subject with Molly herself.

The shop called ‘Sh’ was staffed by women, sold sex aid products designed by women and only let men in if they were with a woman. Over two floors, customers could peruse and purchase anything from hen night accoutrements to serious sex aids like anal beads, dildos of more shapes, colours and sizes than can be dreamed of, lube, couples toys, and body jewelry. Downstairs housed the more serious items like erotic books and magazines, fetish wear and BDSM accessories. In other words, a place where a ‘Molly’ could relax and take her time exploring this side of herself, comparing speeds and sizes and colours, and then be bullied into purchasing an environmentally friendly vibrator.

It was the mauve one because, well, why not? Mauve subconsciously reminded her of her first crush, one of her tutors at uni wore a lilac/mauve shirt. 

She had eventually become more and more comfortable with the idea of owning such a thing, and it was moved from the spare room to her bedroom, from the packaging to the drawer, though as yet sadly unused.

Today was the day. 

She moved her hands over her belly slowly, down to her thighs, taking her time, reacquainting herself with the texture, the soft and the softly defined. She was fond of a slow buildup, both with a partner and alone. The inside of her elbows, down to her wrists, slowly circling each one. Her nipples hardened, and her breathing increased. Her face became flushed; warm tingling began to build along her thighs and up to her cunt and belly.  Tendrils of pleasure, heat began winding their way up her legs towards her groin.

Mind wandering, she returned to one of her favourite fantasies: Molly usually pictured herself being restricted, tied up, and she could hear but not see (blindfolded then, that was new) the noise of a riding crop making a swishing noise as it came closer. She had in her past read the usual amount of erotica, mostly passed around friends at uni, and had found she related (if that’s the word) more strongly to the bondage scenes than anything else. Being as practical as she was, it found a way into her sensual inner world, and it worked, so she didn’t over analyse it.

Molly was hyper aware of that particular sound of the crop and its effect on her libido, she had done little else but recreate the situation in the lab months ago, when HE used the crop on a corpse. His face red with exertion, his breathing fast, tendrils of hair sticking to his forehead as he worked up a sweat, how on earth was a girl to concentrate?

Her breathing was shallow and fast, her hands using the same rhythm to stroke her clit and nipples, same speed. Fingers were removed from her breasts and two placed into her mouth, she sucked hard. Molly reached for the mauve mini machine, switched it on, and moved it slowly around her wet cunt. Not directly on her clit yet, slow was good. Around the outer labia first, just getting into a comfortable rhythm and speed. 

In her imagination, a tall, willowy person holding the crop was directly in front of her, and Molly felt the tip brush her lips, demanding entry. She opened her mouth to accept the crop, breathed over it, feeling the smooth material on her tongue, and biting down briefly as it was removed.  The crop played across her lips, demanded entry. The moment Molly surrendered it withdrew leaving her breathless

Long fingers replaced the crop, two at a time, caressing her chin and throat slowly, so slowly she could gasp from want, then stroking her lips which she opened automatically, sucking on the fingers with eagerness and desperation. Her throat producing tiny grunts of pleasure, she began to softly moan nonsense words, words of protest and indignation, a plea to be untied. The figure before her was unmoved by her begging though they placed a calming hand along her jaw and stroked it with affection.

The crop touched her clavicle, lingered on her breasts, circled her erect nipples, moved to her belly, moving in a slow languid manner, so slowly Molly felt she would start screaming any second now. Her body felt as if it was covered in small electrical pulses, each one firing a tantalizing charge and then moving to the next, completely unpredictable and teasing a reaction out of her. Her body twitched at every touch, shivered involuntarily.

In her fantasy, Molly’s position had now morphed into her leaning over a workbench, like the type in her lab. Her hands were tied at the wrist, and were straight out in front of her, holding on. The figure behind her was holding her down over her bench, hand on her back, caressing along her vertebrae softly, then removing the hand and replacing it with a sharp ‘thwack’ of the crop.

She ceded control, she gave herself up to the sensations, the sounds, the feel of it, and let her mind become at one with her body, with the feelings her body was experiencing. Not analyzing or trying to control or predict what was happening, just accepting every slap as her due and reward, living for the moment of pain and cessation of pain in a cycle of want. 

Hitting buttocks or top of thighs, neither action kept to a particular rhythm, leading Molly to not know what to expect, to become preternaturally calm.

The tiny mauve machine was moved then, to better direct her arousal and work towards her goal. It was coming. She felt it coming. She felt the fire in her cunt spread down her thighs, her toes were curling in anticipation, her other hand could do little but grasp the sheet and gasp as the crop moved slowly along her back and was slowly placed between her parted labia. She widened her legs. She keened in her fantasy, much louder in her head than she allowed herself to be in real life. Pushing her held hips back as far as she dared, Molly began to fuck herself on it, the movement of hips keeping a direct relationship to the movement of the mauve wonder. 

‘Oh fuck, fuck…sh…oh my god sher…’ Molly has always stopped short of naming in full the object of her desire.

‘Harder…please god harder’ ‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’

‘oh shit, jesusfuck’ ‘shit’ 

Breathing ragged, Molly turned herself over and raised her legs to be fully penetrated by the crop now.  Great waves of pleasure crashed around her consciousness, and floating in a nether world of pain/pleasure Molly could hear test tubes and equipment thrown from the workbench and breaking all around her and she felt her own resolve break. Finally taking control in her dream world, Molly reached forward and found the arms holding her in place. She fought to release her blindfold, and as she did so, the tall willowy figure was revealed in all her glory. Irene Adler gloated above Molly’s face, and as she did so, Molly came with such force as she’d never known; an electric shock of an orgasm rioted though her body and soul. She grabbed Irene’s hair and dragged her down into a deep wet kiss. Two tongues vied for dominance, demanding deeper, more.

Her orgasm was purple in hue (Molly always came in different colours) and she trembled through the aftershock, her mind slowly returning to her.

Hands stroking her belly and breasts to calm and comfort herself, coming back into her own world, Molly did a mental double take. So, Irene Adler? Where on earth had that come from? She guessed one tall willowy person could be mistaken for another. It was a surprise but in a good way. Good in a boundary pushing way.

Stretching from top to toe, Molly promised herself two things: to explore somehow, however timidly, her same sex attraction in real life, and (this one was easier) to keep in mind her mini mauve wonder and treat herself more often.

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal thanks to mid0nz, I would never have got this done without her or had the inclination to even start! An inspiration and a great beta.
> 
> Molly visited the well known establishment www.sh-womenstore.com


End file.
